enough, and after a time he rose with a weary
sigh, and made a second and more detailed examination of the several
apartments.

It availed him nothing, but one point he definitely established. Escape
was impossible, failing outside assistance. A certain coldness in the
atmosphere, which was perceptible immediately beneath the barred window,
led him to believe that this communicated with the outer air.

He was disposed to think that his unconsciousness had lasted less than
an hour, and that it was still dark without. He was full of distrust.
He no longer believed his immediate death to have been decided upon.
For some reason it would seem that the group wished him to live, at any
rate, temporarily. But now a complete theory touching the death of Sir
Charles Abingdon had presented itself to his mind. Knowing little, but
suspecting much of the resources of Fire-Tongue, he endeavoured to avoid
contact with anything in the place.

Night attire was provided in the sleeping chamber, but he did not avail
himself of this hospitality. Absolute silence reigned about him. Yet so
immutable are Nature's laws, that presently Paul Harley sank back upon
the mattresses, and fell asleep.

He awoke, acutely uncomfortable and ill-rested. He found a shaft of
light streaming into the room, and casting shadows of the iron bars upon
the opposite wall. The brass lantern still burned above him, and the
silence remained complete as when he had fallen asleep. He stood up
yawning and stretching himself.

At least, it was good to be still alive. He was vaguely conscious of the
fact that he had been dreaming of Phil Abingdon, and suppressing a sigh,
he clenched his teeth grimly and entered the little bathroom. There
proved to be a plentiful supply of hot and cold water. At this he
sniffed suspiciously, but at last:

"I'll risk it," he muttered.

He undressed and revelled in the joy of a hot bath, concluding with a
cold plunge. A razor and excellent toilet requisites were set upon the
dressing table, and whilst his imagination whispered that the soap might
be poisoned and the razor possess a septic blade, he shaved, and having
shaved, lighted his pipe and redressed himself at leisure.

He had nearly completed his toilet when a slight sound in the outer room
arrested his attention. He turned sharply, stepping through the doorway.

A low carved table, the only one which the apartment boasted, displayed
an excellent English breakfast laid upon